


Family, Duty, Honor

by Darkmagyk, IaMcHrIsSi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/pseuds/Darkmagyk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IaMcHrIsSi/pseuds/IaMcHrIsSi
Summary: When her sons and husband are killed in a demon attack, Catelyn Tully does the only thing she knows to do, trains her two daughters up to be demon hunters like generations of Tullys before them.Ten years later, when Mom goes missing, the Stark Sister pick up where she left off, and embrace her family words: Family, Duty, Honor."To recap: Mom is missing, we haven't slept in three days, and your boyfriend tried to kill you."Or; The ASOIAF/Supernatural AU nobody asked for. Featuring hunters Catelyn, Sansa and Arya Stark, actual working family relationships, and lots of female characters that don't die or leave or are never heard from again. (No, I'm not sideeyeing anything, what gives you that impression?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I accidentally published this instead of saving the draft. Well. Not planned, but... since it's already out there, I might as well leave it. I was planning on finishing at least two more chapters, so I could update somewhat regularly, but ... yeah. Anyway. I have a lot of plans for this AU, so this will not stay the only story. I hope you enjoy it!

“We'll have to talk about your course load, Sansa. You push yourself too hard, I think.” Professor Mordane says, looking at the girl in front of her. Sansa is smiling, the sweet, kind smile that told Professor Mordane that Sansa does not agree with her.

Sansa Stark is all about smiles. She is the kind of girl that has a perfect future ahead of her, filled with good grades and a good job and volunteer work somewhere a good looking, rich husband, who would treat her like a princess and made sure she did not overwork herself trying to help everyone. So much compassion in one girl, so much will to do good. A girl that should only have good things happening to her.

There are rumors, about a family tragedy. Professor Mordane does not put much stock in rumors, but this one... a fire, people whisper, killing Sansa's father and all four of her brothers, when she was only eleven, leaving Sansa, her mother and her sister as the only survivors. Professor Mordane wonders whether that is why Sansa is always trying to help people, or whether that is just inherently Sansa.

“I'm perfectly fine, Professor.” The girl says now, blue eyes shining. She seems amused by Professor Mordane's worry, which is to be expected, of course. Young girls that age never seem to know their limits. Then again, Sansa always seems so perfectly put together, even in the face of Professor Corbray, the one Professor who is known to have made every single student cry at least once. Just last week, Sansa argued with him in the hall way. Professor Mordane might have been a bit impressed. A bit.

“I know you feel like you can take on the universe, Sansa, but even you have to sleep sometimes. You have time. Don't overdo it.” Professor Mordane says, but she already knows Sansa won't listen. Ah, youth, and the overestimation of one's ones limits.

“Do you at least make sure your social life doesn't suffer? Learning isn't everything.” Now Sansa is grinning. It's still a pretty grin. Everything this girl does is pretty.

“Don't worry about me. I'm quite alright. You know my boyfriend Joffrey, and I have Jeyne and Myranda and the students I'm tutoring. And I call my mother and sister almost daily. Truly, you don't need to worry. Just yesterday evening, I went to a game night with Beth Cassel. You truly don't need to worry.”

“You had classes until five pm yesterday... did you walk home in the dark? Alone? That's not safe. Anything could have happened, my dear. I must insist you take better care of yourself.” Just the thought of it, Sansa Stark and tiny Beth Cassel walking through town alone. And of course, Sansa would have insisted on bringing Beth home first, because that's just what Sansa does.

“There is nothing that would happen to us, that we can't deal with.” Sansa tells her, and the girls smile is... sharp, now. Dangerous, Professor Mordane would call it, if it was anyone but Sansa Stark. But of course Sansa Stark does not have a dangerous smile.

“But if it makes you feel better, I might take the night off. Joffrey wanted to invite me to dinner anyway, and he has a car. I wouldn't even need to walk anywhere.” Is that a sarcastic smile? Professor Mordane has never thought of Sansa as sarcastic, but right now... No. This is still Sansa, she is probably genuine about this. Probably.

“Think about what I said, please. I just want to make sure you're okay.” Professor Mordane says, but she has a feeling that Sansa won't. That's the other thing about Sansa: She's stubborn. Very stubborn. She reminds Professor Mordane of herself that age.

“I will, Professor. Have a nice day.” Sansa stands up, sweet smile on her face, her red hair swishing around her as she turns and walks out of the room. In everyone else it would be arrogance, but somehow, with Sansa it never is. Professor Mordane shakes her head, and pulls out the essays she still needs to grade.

* * *

 “You'll love it.” Joffrey had said when he had invited Sansa to what he called his favorite spot in town. Now... well, now Sansa is wondering what Joff's intentions are. Because the spot might be rather nice, at daylight, but it's already getting dark, and there is no light anywhere. There are clouds, so they can't see the stars either, which Sansa could have accepted as a romantic gesture. But a dark patch in an alley? Not really what she'd pick for a date.

“This is the spot?” She asks, trying to find something nice to say. If Joff likes it so much, there has to be something good about it... unless Joff has other plans. The familiar feeling of her dagger in her boot suddenly feels very comforting. But no, she thinks. This is not a hunt. This is Joff, with his big stupid wonderful romantic declarations and his distracting smile.

“Sure, my beloved. Just look around.” Joff says, sweeping his arm around in a big gesture. Joff is always gesturing. It is something she's always found endearing, but right now, coupled with that odd tone in his voice... she wonders whether she should pretend to stumble and grab her dagger. Just as a precaution.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees movement, and ducks out of instinct. Just quick enough to dodge Joff's fist, adorned with fighting spikes. A look in his face and his eyes... they _shine_ with malice. What? Joff wouldn't... Joff isn't... but while her mind is still reeling, her body reacts with all the instincts and training she has learned over the years. She pretends to fall, tucking her feet in a good starting position and taking out the dagger, seven inches and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asks, letting her voice tremble. Let him underestimate me, she thinks, desperately. People doing that has served her well over the years. She does it almost automatically now, which is good, because her mind is still a mess. Maybe this is just... maybe he's possessed? Or somehow influenced by something?

“You're a plague on this earth. You have to be eradicated.” Joff's voice is filled with hatred, almost unrecognizable. This is not the boy she went to the flower garden with. And what he's saying makes no sense. A plague? Really?

“I... I don't understand!” Keep him talking. Sooner or later he'll tell her something that helps her figure this out. Should she pretend to cry? A tear's always good, she decides, and shifts her weight. Should she go for the holy water in her purse? If he's human it won't hurt him, but... if he's human, and not... then what?

“Starks, with your magic and tradition.” Joff spits out. “Don't you know that it's magic that's destroying the world? Parasites on good normal people, you need to be destroyed!”

Starks? And magic? For a second Sansa almost laughs. Starks aren't magical. Starks are pragmatic and rational and honorable, like her dad had been. Starks don't carry seven inch daggers and some holy water with them wherever they go, on the off chance that they might meet a demon in need of slaying. Tully's did. Tully's traveled the country, killing whatever evil thing needed killing, saving people and protecting the populace. But Starks? If the Starks had been magical, then her dad and brothers wouldn't have been murdered by a single demon.

“That doesn't make any sense!” Sansa says, and lets tears run down her cheeks. Crying on command, one of the best skills she's ever learned. Maybe it'll get him to talk? She needs more time. Time to figure out what is going on here, time to get in position, time to help Joff... or take him out. Time to understand whether he is insane, or if there is actually something in his words worth paying attention to. She feels her heart beating fast, too fast, but her grip on her knife is tight and her hand steady.

“My family, we've been taking out demons since the dawn of time, destroying magic wherever we're going, killing all those unworthy of human life. But you and yours? Magic in your very bones, but still you pretend to be human. As if you're not the barest filth of earth.”

Not possessed by a demon, the rational part of Sansa's brain insists. A demon wouldn't talk about destroying demons. Nor would they talk about their family. Actually, that clears out most of Sansa's suspects. Angels? But they wouldn't want to destroy magic. The logical deduction calms Sansa, it always does. As long as she's figuring things out, she's gaining control, even if her boyfriend is currently standing over her, looking like he wants to kill her. Damnit, she thinks. I really liked him. She lets herself whimper, a heartclenching sound that has, so far, made literally everyone at least think about what they're doing.

But Joffrey doesn't seem swayed. He seems... turned on? Oh dear. One of those. Well, at least she hasn't been dating him for long, just under two months. Anything else would be quite embarrassing. And now her internal voice sounds like Arya. This day (evening?) just keeps getting worse.

Joff raises his fist, and one look on the spikes across his fingers tells her that she does not want to have to take a punch from him. She can't, because if she does, she's not sure if she'd get back up again.

She tightens the grip on her knife, and jumps to her feet. Joffrey's face is a comical mask of surprise, and while she's still moving, Sansa's knife cuts over his forehead. A nasty cut opens, blood flowing into his eyes. Blending him. One of the first tricks mom taught her, make sure they can't see you properly.

Sansa follows it up by a punch with her left hand, right in the nose. A crack, and yep, that's broken. Good. Knee to the groin, and down he goes. It had taken ten seconds, tops. Uncle Brynden would be proud.

Deep breath. _Look around you, analyze the situation_. Mom's advice, always good in a crisis. Joff is on the ground, and with the way he's bleeding, he'll stay there. Not dead, she wasn't aiming for that, and she can hear him whimper. The alley is still empty, no other attackers, whether human or... otherwise.

For a moment, she wonders whether she should call an ambulance, or the police. But then she'd have to talk to them, explain things she doesn't want to explain, probably hand them her favorite knife as evidence...

Sansa is a hunter. Hunters don't talk to police, unless they have a well faked badge and a case at hand.

She leaves the alley.

The way to her dorm isn't long, and Sansa takes care not to run. Running girls attract attention.Instead, she prays.

 _Gentle Mother, strength of women,_  
_help our daughters through this fray,_  
_soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_  
_teach us all a kinder way._

She doesn't really sing the hymn, the way she was taught, back in Riverrun with her uncles and with her mother on the road, but she whispers the words, and like always she can feel herself calming down. As long as the Seven are with her, she is not alone.

A car comes from behind. Sansa doesn't look. She's just a regular college girl on the way home, nothing special. No reason to look closer.

“Do I want to know where you're coming from?” Sansa stops. She knows that voice. She loves that voice. She turns and grins brightly.

“My boyfriend tried to kill me. I left him beat up in an alley.” She tells her sister. Arya's driving the car, looking … frankly kind of terrible. Tired and a bit worried, but there's a grin there, too, matching Sansa's. Mom always says that have the same grin.

“Dead?” Arya asks, raising her eyebrow. Of course that's the part Sansa's sister would fixate on. Sansa would like to blame Arya's time with the Faceless for this, but... that might just be Arya.

“Nah. Just knocked out. And, you know. Broken nose. Nasty cut on the forehead. The usual.” Not the usual for a college girl. Especially not for the daughter of Ned Stark, honest and upstanding business man, who'd never wanted his kids to be involved in any sort of violence. But maybe trying to be that girl was always a folly. “Didn't want to have to hide the body.”

“Are we going to pretend body disposal is hard now?" Arya asks, lying the sarcasm down hard. Sansa closes her eyes. She's missed Arya.

“Nah, just not worth the time. Not like anyone would believe Joff if he said I beat him up anyway. I'm just a little college girl after all.” Sharp smile. Arya's smile is sharp too. But she also... seems distracted.

“Mom's missing. She went on a hunt down in Maidenpool, and she hasn't picked up the phone in over a week.” Damnit. If something took down Mom, then... no. Mom is not dead. Might need a hand, but that's all.

“Let me get some stuff, then we'll go.” She says, and offers her little sister a reassuring smile. The shift in Arya's body language is minute, but some of the tension leaves her shoulders, and her hands loose some of their tightness.

Sansa gets into the car.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Clearwater is a small town by the Blue Fork, charming and sweet like so many other small towns Sansa has passed through with Mom and Arya. It's nothing special, forgettable really, if ...

if it wasn't the town Mom disappeared in.

She's not dead, Sansa tells herself whenever she feels despair creep up in her. Mom is not dead. Mom is a brilliant hunter, strong and clever and experienced and a real badass with a gun or her knives. She's probably just caught up in the hunt, or lost her phone, or broke it, or something like that. There's nothing that can keep Mom down for long. Mom's not dead. She can't be dead.

_Please, Great Mother in Heaven, don't let Mom be dead. Not like..._

 On the way here, Arya and Sansa took turns calling up their contacts. Uncle Ed and Uncle Brynden haven't talked to her all week, which is not that rare, really. Jason Mallister hasn't seen her since that hunt last month, and Liane Vance says she hasn't talked to Mom in ages, which probably means about three weeks, given how impatient the Vances have always been. Beth Blackwood's automatic email says that whole clan will be out of contact for months on an independent investigation which is strange, but... nothing that Sansa is going to spend time on figuring out until she knows where Mom is. In short, nobody has heard from Mom in over a week. 

That's... worrying. The Riverlander hunters aren't a family, like Uncle Ed sometimes claims, but they are a community, and they look out for each other. And while Mom might not be that close with everyone, she's still part of the community, and that means that she talks to people.

Sansa has to remind herself again and again that five days aren't much in terms of hunters. Five days is nothing. Nobody else seems worried. Five days with no contact is normal, it's okay. 

But Mom calls them. Mom always calls them, or texts if there really is no time. But there is always contact, always reassurance, even if it's just a short check in, every day. Mom makes sure Sansa and Arya are alright, and she also let's them know she's okay.

Five days.

"You're thinking too hard." Arya sounds wry, that special sort of tone that used to drive Sansa up the wall until she realized that it's what Arya does when she wants to act as though she's not scared. She decides to be the bigger person and not call her sister out on it.

"Just... wondering." Sansa says, and hates how fragile her voice sounds. It's just Arya, her little sister, the person who knows her best in the whole damn world, but still.

"About that boyfriend of yours?" Arya asks, and Sansa flinches. She can't help it. She very deliberately hasn't thought of Joff since they've left. Joff is past now. Far away and not her boyfriend anymore and past. She's most definitively not scared of him, because that would be scared. She beat him up.

"NO!" She says, a bit loud and too forceful, and Arya just raises one eyebrow. 

"I was thinking about Mom. Not Joff. Joff is not important to this conversation." He's not. Joff is past. She glares at Arya, but her sister just looks unimpressed. 

"And he's not my boyfriend. Anymore." Not that they had a proper breakup or anything. But when a guy tries to kill you, that can be taken as a sign that the relationship is over, can't it? Sansa is pretty sure of that, and it's not like she wants to see the guy ever again. Or think of him ever again, which is why she is going to stop thinking about Joff now. 

"Did Mom tell you anything about what she's hunting?" Sansa asks, and Arya rolls her eyes. 

"No, San, she did not. Do you really think I would not have told you if Mom had mentioned some all important hints? She just said that there was a hunt, and I shouldn't worry. Like she always does. And no, she did not seem particularly worried, or scared, or weird in any way." Arya sounds annoyed, and Sansa is almost happy about it. An annoyed Arya she can deal with. Her own... complicated emotions? Not so much. 

“Okay, okay, no need to get angry. So, we're starting from zero. Which is not a bad thing. We can approach this like any other hunt, and Gods willing we will stumble over Mom at some point. Who will then be annoyed that we think she couldn't handle it.” She smiles at the last words. Mom tends to be pissed when people underestimate her.

“And then she will ask what the hell you are doing here instead of being at college.” Arya's voice is softer, fonder. Sansa doesn't need to look at her to know she's smiling.

“We'll find her.” She says.

“We'll find her.” Her sister answers.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minor changes were made in the first two chapters before we posted this one. Mostly because when those were posted it only had a vague outline of a story, and now its fully plotted (the google doc in question is about 30 pages long, we might have bitten off a lot) so a very few things changed.

When Arya had been six, the family had made one of their normal trips to Riverrun. But when they were done, instead of flying back home like they normally did, Papa declared the need for an adventure. So they’d rented a giant van, and all five of them had spread out in the back as they’d road tripped through the Riverlands and the vast North, all the way back to White Harbor. 

Starks and Tullys have money, and whether it is for a business trip, family vacations, or demon hunting, a certain kind of hotel is expected. But that summer, Papa had made it a point to stop in cheap motel, just for the experience. 

Arya does not remember if this little dive in Clearwater was one of the motels they stopped at, but it seems the type. And the exact opposite of the type her mother chooses these days. 

But the woman behind the check-in desk seems friendly and helpful in that fake, customer service sort of way. 

“Hi,” Sansa says, as they walk up to her, Arya’s better at making friends, but Sansa’s always better at these first impressions, all smiles and decorum. “I have kind of a weird question.”

“I’m afraid we don’t offer hourly rates.” She’s the woman, and when her meaning hits Arya, she nearly reaches. But Sansa isn’t phased at all. 

“Oh, gods, no,” She says with a good natured sort of laugh, then pulls out her phone and holds out a picture of their mother they’d taken six months ago when they’d been together for The Maiden’s festival. “We’re looking for our mother.” 

The woman behind the counter frowns at the photo and Sansa in turn, but clearly sees the family resemblance between the two, that does not extend to Arya. She tries to not let it bother her. But it's hard, sometimes. Mom, Sansa, the uncles, they all look Tully, classic Riverlanders. Arya has the same skin tone, the same nose and brow and even cheekbones after a fashion, but its hidden among her northern hair and eyes and the horse face she really just properly grew into a few years ago. And sometimes if feels like she’s the odd one out in her own family, particularly when people who’ve know mom forever immediately identify Sansa as her daughter, but don’t make the same connection with Arya. But other times, she worries that if she didn’t have a mirror, she might forget what her father’s eyes looked like. 

“We don’t want to involve the police until it's clear there's a problem,” Sansa is saying, “She takes off sometimes, with her beau of the week.” Sansa lies smoothly, “But it's been almost two weeks, so we just thought we’d ask.” 

The woman behind the counter looks considerate for a several long moments, glancing at the photo again, before nods slowly. “Yes, I remember her,” She say. “She was pretty, and tipped well,” Which sounds just like Mom. “She didn’t have a guy with her. Or, at least, not one I saw.” 

Sansa frowns, and nods her thanks, “Well, I’m glad you remember her. And it's good to know she got in and out.” 

“Well, I mostly remember her because she asked about a library, and no one has ever asked about that before.” 

Sansa’s eyes don’t light up at that. She just nods and smiles, and asks for their own room for the night, but when she turns around, she catches Arya’s eye and grins. 

The room is on the back, and the motel bumps up to one of the many small smatterings of wood that dot the Riverlands. When Sansa takes the SUV to get them dinner and to scope out the library, Arya props the door open and lays back on one of the double beds and turns on the TV, listening with a half an ear to a documentary about the War of Five Kings. As her eyes drifted close, her last waking thought was that Robb, fourteen, bash, and desperate for a sword, would have loved it. 

“I don’t think this place allows pets,” Sansa says, louder than necessary, but waking her up with a start. And it's true, the probably don’t, but Arya had left the door open anyway, and Nymeria was curled up on the bed with her now. Given how in addition to Arya’s chicken parm and Sansa’s veal diana, she has a takeout container of meatballs for both Lady and Nymeria, Arya doesn’t think she actually objects. 

Lady, because she’s a lady, stays on the floor, and Sansa sits down next to her, leaning against her bed while they eat. 

“The library’s not far,” Sansa promises, “But its a small thing, so I don’t know what she could have been looking for, or what we could possibly find.” 

“What time does it open?”

“11,” Sansa says, rubbing her hands through Lady’s fur, eager for the contact. She hadn’t taken her wolf with her to school. Arya remembers the separation anxiety, and Nymeria licks her face as though she feels the thought and agrees. Arya can’t imagine leaving hunting and family by choice. It's a Tully tradition that goes back a thousand years, to leave all that behind in favor college and partied and blonde assholes who try to kill you. When things and people try to kill Arya, she kills them back. She wants to ask. She doesn’t. 

Because she knows when they find mom, it will be over again. Mom wants it to be. Mom was thrilled when Sansa went of to school, and was only not more upset that Arya has persured no higher education since completing her online high school is because after those three years Arya was lost, was no one, Catelyn Tully was always happy to have her youngest daughter by her side. 

She doesn’t say this. Doesn’t want to have a fight with her sister now, has had enough of them for a lifetime or four. “That’s good, we won’t have to have an early morning.”

***

Arya has an early morning. She’s to use to hunts and the road. She wakes up just after dawn in the crummy motel room. College has softened Sansa, because she’s dead to the world still, and has been like this in the morning since they started traveling together again. 

So Arya checks that the coast is clear and lets the wolves run back out into the wild. Then she packs up the go bag she brought in, and cleans up the leftovers and styrofoam from their feast the night before. As she heads out for her morning run down the two lane highway she reflect that this is why a better class of hotels is preferable, morning runs on treadmills are always are always easier. 

But you can’t come back with breakfast on a treadmill. She has two egg and chicken wraps, and hopes that Sansa still takes her coffee black. 

It's a strange sort of thought, not knowing for sure anymore. And she wonders if that’s what Sansa felt like when she was lost and then found. But she wasn’t lost by choice, and the Faceless Men didn’t let you go home for major Seven holidays. 

“No,” She says to herself, suddenly, she wasn’t going to go there, “I am Arya Stark of House Tully. I’m not no one, I’m not of the house of black and white, I’m of Riverrun and the North.”

“What?” Comes Sansa’s sleepy voice. 

“Rise and shine, Princess,” Arya says, “I brought breakfast.”

They eat in an easy silence, but silent meals always seem wrong to Arya. Meals should have sisters to fight with and brothers to egg you on, a mother telling everyone to quiet down and a father to say that kids should be kids. Maybe she shouldn’t have let the wolves out, they always added a wild spark to any meal. 

Sansa takes a shower while Arya packs up for her, and then waits in the driver’s seat while Sansa checks them out. 

The library isn’t far, but it really is a shell of a thing, and looks like it holds less inside it then the one at Riverrun. But it is cozy and clean inside, and the young man behind the counter seems thrilled by their presence. 

“Hi, we’re from out of town, but needed to use a desktop, can we get a log on?” Sansa asked. 

It costs them two silver stags, but they got the standard guest log in, and then are asked to sign in on the little binder next to the computer bay. Sansa logs in, opening the browser and searching some information on Riverland wildlife while Arya surreptitiously flips through the binder out of the librarian’s view. Two pages and one week ago, in their mother’s fluid hand, is the name Lysa Whent. One of her mother’s aliases. And next to the name, the exact twenty minutes she was on this very computer. Sansa opens the catalog and looked back that the time stamps. 

“ _Myths of the North_. _Wild and Free: Tales of the People of the True North_. _The Royal Wolves: From Bran the Builder to The Queen in the North_.” Arya reads from the screen. “I don’t get it. This is a bunch of Northern Mythology. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sansa says, and goes back to googling useless information while Arya, with her most dis-affectedly board features fixed to her own face, drifts away to the nonfiction section.

All three of the books are next to each other, between books about the Age of Heroes and the myths of dragons. 

She flips through them in turn, and finds nothing particularly interesting any any of them. Not something their mother would need. Catelyn Tully has no use for the North, anymore. 

She picks up _Myths of the North_ last. Arya thought they’d had a book full of Northern myths when they’d been little, but it had been a picture book, full of images of Giants and Walls and wolves. It must have burned in the fire. 

Bran and Arya had ganged up on Sansa and asked for the scary stories. Bran was only seven when he died to Sansa’s eleven, but at the time Arya had though Bran braver than there sister. 

Arya had been wrong. 

She flips through the book looking for familiar names, and as she reaches the halfway point the book falls open on a page called “The Long Night” of its own volition. She remembers that one, she thought, once a Winter got so bad, it lasted for a generation, and the sun wasn’t even visible through the storm. Dragons had to melt the heart of winter to bring back the sun. 

But that isn’t what catches her eye as she scans the pages . The reason the book had opened to that page became apparent. A little sticky note rested in the corner, blue in color, like all of her mother’s office supplies. Mom kept, keeps, detailed notes on all her cases, but they’d have to find her her journal to see those, but before she made her case files, she often writes in process out in little sticky notes, so she can keep her thoughts organized. And now Arya has a single sticky note covered in red ink..

[White Walkers = Others

Weight = Zombies

Azor Ahia = The Prince that was Promised

Targaryen = Dragon

Starks?]

Arya stares at it for several long moments. Not quite comprehending. 

“Arya?” Sansa calls, and she blinks for several long minutes, before slipping her phone out of her pocket and scanning it over the pages in question before sticking the note to the back of the case. 

She meets her sister at the end of the shelves, “My computer time is up,” Sansa explains, loudly, not looking at the several other people who have joined them in the library “So we can head out, because I know how board you were.”

“Great, finally, I’m ready to get home.” Arya says, to loudly, to falsely, play acting is not where her skills in deception lie. But they wander outside without anyone seeming to take note of them. 

“So?” 

“You drive.” Arya say, “I have somethings to read to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check us out on tumblr [iamchrissi](http://iamchrissi.tumblr.com/) [darkmagyk](http://darkmagyk.tumblr.com/).


End file.
